Chapter 25
Callum
I can’t believe I said that.
The second Millie walked out of my house, I wanted to run after her and tell her how bloody stupid I was—but she practically bolted to her car. The rest of the morning, I’ve been hoping to come across her at work, but she’s nowhere in sight.
“Have you guys seen Millie today?” I ask Archie, Cameron, and Finn when I join them for lunch.
“Yeah, I know where she is,” Finn says, casually tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth.
I arch a brow. “Well?”
“I’ll tell you if you answer my question—truthfully.”
“What now?” I growl.
My jaw tightens, and I try to loosen it. No matter how many weights I’ve lifted this morning, or how many laps I’ve run, the tension hasn’t left my body. I’m wired. Restless.
“You’re in a sour mood today,” Archie remarks, stabbing his fork into his food. “Who stole your favourite knickers?”
I ignore him and focus on Finn.
“What’s going on between you and Millie?” Finn asks, his expression serious now.
“What?” I blink. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“We saw you two yesterday,” he says. “Outside the bus.”
“And in the press,” Cameron adds with a knowing nod.
I let out a sharp breath. “Are you hard of hearing? It’s just like I told you before, we were faking it.”
They exchange a look, clearly not satisfied with my answer.
“Never mind,” I mutter, pushing my chair back. I haven’t even touched my food, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like I could eat if I tried.
“She’s home,” Finn says as I’m standing up.
I stop mid-motion. “What?”
“She called Philip this morning,” Finn continues. “Said she wasn’t feeling well. Asked to work from home.”
I fix him in a glare. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Finn just shrugs and leans back, eyes still locked on me. “You want to know what I think?” he continues. “You guys were faking it, but then it turned into something real.”
“I second that,” Archie says through a mouth full of food.
Cameron nods. “Me three.”
“You’re all mental,” I snap. “There’s nothing—”
“Cut the bull, Callum,” Finn says, suddenly all business. “She misses work for the first time, and you’ve been the grumpiest I’ve seen you since you joined this club. That’s not a coincidence, lad.”
“And I’ve seen the way you look at one another,” Cameron adds. “It’s pretty obvious.”
I scoff. “Says the guy who’s been on twenty-five dates this year alone. That makes you a relationship expert, does it?”
Cameron just shakes his head, but I can tell I hit a nerve, because he crosses his arms and looks away. Okay, that was a bit of a low blow. Poor bloke. He’s never had a chance with women.
“Lash out all you want,” Finn says calmly. “We know what we saw. You love her, and she loves you. Now, whatever’s happened between you, you’ve got to fix it.”
I scoff. “Why do you all assume it’s my fault?”
The three of them give me a pointed look, as though I’ve just asked if the sky is blue.
Archie shakes his head. “Just go to her place and apologise.”
I cross my arms. “Why do you even care?”
“We were kind of getting used to Soft Callum,” Finn says, smirking.
“Yeah, we’re not big fans of Grumpy Callum’s return,” Archie adds, suppressing his own grin.
Cameron looks up from his plate. “Definitely not.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “I—never mind. Where’s Francois?”
Meeting up with Francois, I tell him something urgent has come up and I have to head home early. He’s not thrilled, but since I played a great match yesterday, he lets me go without asking too many questions.
Truth is, I have no idea what I’ll even say to Millie once I get there.
Sorry? I didn’t mean it? I’m actually crazy about you too?
None of it feels like enough. Not after the way she looked at me—defeated, embarrassed—before bolting out of my house.
A notification pings on my phone as I plug it into the car. A comment about my kilt on the Valentine’s Day post.
A light bulb goes off in my head, and I run back into the training centre, hurrying to the locker room and grabbing my kilt and boots out of my locker.
I briefly consider changing right then and there, but there’s no way I’m jogging across the training centre in a kilt.
Instead, I tuck it under my arm and sprint back to my car, where I take off my trainers, wiggle out of my joggers, and put the kilt and boots on.
Then, I slam my foot on the gas pedal and drive to her place, pushing the speed limit.
Unfortunately, I hit all the red lights, get stuck behind a garbage truck, and have to let a group of old ladies shuffle past at a crosswalk, but I finally get there.
Her car is parked along the curb, tiny, black, and sad, as usual. I find a spot around the corner and take off running, boots pounding the pavement, kilt flapping in the wind. People give me side eyes and double takes, but I ignore them. I just hope—and pray—that this works.
The front door of the building is open, so I zip inside and jog up the stairs to the second floor. Pausing on the landing, I take off my coat, straighten my white T-shirt that’s tucked under my kilt, and ring her doorbell.
When the door swings open, my chest tightens.
Her eyes seem smaller, the light in them dimmer than usual, and she’s holding a tub of ice cream. She blinks in confusion. “Callum?”
“Relationships aren’t my thing, Millie,” I blurt without introduction, and she frowns. I rush to add, “But you are. You’re more than I could ever deserve. You’re light, you’re joy, and I’d be a fool if I didn’t want everything with you.”
Her frown gradually transforms into a faint smile. “Really?”
I step closer. “Of course. You caught me off guard earlier. I didn’t know what to say, and to be honest, I still don’t. But I’m telling you now that I’m absolutely crazy for you. I can only hope that you’ll let me try to be worthy of you.”
Her smile widens, the light in her eyes flickering back to life as she sets the ice cream down on the entryway console table. “You already are. You’re all those things too, Callum—light, joy.”
I raise a brow. “I’m really not.”
“You are!” she insists, placing her hands on my chest. I cover them with mine. “You’re a good man, you care about people, and you’re dedicated. Okay, maybe you’re a little stubborn too, but I love that about you.”
I laugh, my heart soaring. “And I, about you. You’re definitely more stubborn than I am, Millie Templeton.”
“Well, maybe we can be stubborn together, then?”
“I can agree to that,” I say, pulling her against me. Her arms loop around my neck, and I lift her off the ground, kissing her with everything I’ve got—relief, joy, need. Her lips are soft and familiar. Perfect. Like home.
When we finally break apart, I rest my forehead against hers. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I got scared.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
After a moment, she steps back, eyeing me from head to toe. “I can’t say I’m mad about any of this.”
“You really like the kilt, don’t you?” I chuckle, tugging her close again.
She nods, a grin dancing on her lips. “It’s staying, right?”
“Oh yeah. I’ll wear it every day if I have to.”
“In that case,” she says, brushing a kiss against my lips, “you and I are going to be together for a long, long time.”